


Thailand; aka The Mission with the Bra Incident

by TerryJune



Series: Mission Briefs [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Inexperienced, May-POV, Pre-Series, Sexual Tension, Undercover, partners, what could go wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-03-26 12:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19005436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerryJune/pseuds/TerryJune
Summary: As mentioned in episode 4x14 - "The Man Behind The Shield""I'm good with my hands.""Not how I remember it.""Okay. Here it comes. Never long before you bring that up.""I remember you fumbling quite a bit.""I didn't know you that well back then, I didn't want to be presumptuous.""You were undercover as my husband!""Right, and I knew we were on camera so I had to sell that we were, you know-""Oh you sold it. Took over 2 minutes to unhook my bra.""That was an act! For the camera. What, they don't teach foreplay at the Operations Academy?"LOT's more story than just 'the scene in question'; adventure, some swearing and as required, some fooling around.  These two still have lots to learn.





	1. Chapter 1

Melinda May sat ramrod straight in the chair outside of Agent Fury’s office.  Her S.O. had sent her to the 5th floor over an hour ago and although she was getting impatient she used the time to practice projecting an even temperament.

_Breath in through the nose, 2-3-4…Out through the mouth 2-3-4…In 2-3-4…Out 2-3-4…_

The door opened without warning and she internalized a curse when she reflexively jumped.

Agent Phil Coulson exited the office, at first unaware of her presence and Melinda's eyebrows rose when she noticed his ears and neck were tinged pink. "Something got you hot under the collar?"

Blinking at her, Phil pulled on an inscrutable grin and thumbed in the direction of the office door, ignoring her question, “Your turn.”

She leaned forward with a smile, “Want to give me a heads up?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” He taunted, not waiting for a response before strolling away, hands in his pockets.

Melinda snickered.  She had worked with Phil a handful of times over the past year, mostly with her serving as unused back up for the notoriously injury prone agent. She had become used to the ubiquitous grin, the light taunts and even the tendency of his SO, Fury, to run late, inconsiderate of anyone else’s schedule. 

“May?  You out there?” A disembodied voice came from the office and she contained a sigh.  Plastering on a neutral expression, she entered the office, coming to a halt, standing at the ready in front of the small desk.

Fury’s head was bent, examining the contents in one of three folders on the desk.  One she recognized as Phil’s personnel file, the other, “Is that _my_ file?”

“I don’t seem to recall making what’s on my desk any of _your_ business.” Fury didn’t look up, taking another long minute to finish whatever he was reading before he turned his attention to her.

“You like working with Agent Coulson?” His question had no context and May mentally ran through all the possible reasons he could be asking.

She decided to play it safe with attempted humor, “He hasn’t managed to strand me in any bodies of water during our last couple of missions, so I suppose I’m warming up to him.”

“It’s been more than a couple of missions.” Fury flicked open the folder scanning down, “In the past year any time he’s selected a specialist it’s been you.  5 times to be exact.”

She shrugged, “We work well together.”

“You sure it’s not something else?” Fury looked steadily at her, fingers steepled.

She swallowed, feeling her jaw tense, “My first few months I was frustrated with not getting a lot of assignments.  Coulson thinks I did him a favor back at the Academy and has been trying to make up for it by helping me get field experience.”

Fury’s eyes narrowed, “Not what I meant.”

Melinda met his gaze with a glare of her own, fingers fisting behind her back.

“You’re cute…” Fury continued to prod, holding up one hand, and then raising and looking to his other, “He’s got that whole ‘nice guy’ vibe I hear woman like…” He shrugged, both hands dropping to the desk, “Wouldn’t be the first two rookies to get together.”

She took a long shuddering inhale, “Agent Coulson and I are _not_ involved in _anyway_ other than professional.”

“One of you gay?” Fury deadpanned with an arched eyebrow.

For once Melinda found herself surprised and she stuttered.

“It’s okay if you are; this isn’t the military.” Fury cut her off, leaning back in his chair, “Just helpful to know; tactical reasons.”

She huffed, “Sir. What is the point of this?”

The senior agent leaned forward, elbows on the desk, an infuriating smirk on his face as he pointed at her, “You know, you’re not as fun to needle as Phil.”

Melinda allowed the barest of smirks and short roll of her eyes.

“Fine.” Fury relented with open hands, leaning back, “You two are about to get hitched and I don’t want it to get messy with real emotions and what not.”

“Excuse me?” She started, her hands falling to her sides.

“Undercover.  For real.” The teasing of Fury’s previous inquiries fell away and he stared at her, hard, “Not one of these ‘dress the part’ things; we’re talking backstopped IDs, multiple day insertion.  This play calls for a good everyman and a real noticeable piece of eye candy.”

The blunt description of her role swiped at what had been rapidly budding excitement.  She was _just_ starting to be called on by agents other than Phil for real field work and finally, after nearly 18 months, her first chance for an extended mission had her relegated to a piece of ass.

Reading her clenched jaw, Fury rolled his eyes, “Oh get over yourself.  A spy uses all their assets. Just because you want to be taken seriously doesn’t mean we should all just pretend that you don’t look the way you do.” He shrugged, “You should be flattered.”

“Yes, _Sir_.” Her hands fisted, “I train 5 hours a day because I want to be sure my coworkers think I look good in a cocktail dress. _Thanks_ for the validation.”

She knew she crossed a line but couldn’t find it within herself to care.  She had enough of being underestimated because of her appearance and if the supervisors at SHIELD couldn’t even manage the barest amount of respect, then maybe the agency wasn’t the place for her.   

Contrary to her expectation, Fury snorted a chuckle, “Does Lian know you speak to superior officers like that?”

Melinda’s eyes widened and fists dropped open, “Lia…my mo… _you know my mother?!_ ”

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she could only imagine the conversation the next time she went home.  She swallowed, feeling the heat rise up her cheeks. Honestly it might be best if she just never went home again.

“The spy world is a small one.” Was all Fury offered by way of explanation. He stood and walked around the desk, leaning against the front and crossing his ankles. “But if you know anything about the people who your mother tolerates, you would know I’d never dare judge you on anything less than your abilities to do the job.”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, too dry to speak.

Agent Fury tilted his head, “The flattery isn’t just that you’re a strong candidate for any op that requires some visual distraction,” He crossed his arms, “It’s that you’re the one I’m sending to back up My Rookie during a potentially messy operation.”

There it is. Melinda exhaled. She supposed she should have suspected from the start; Fury was worried about who would take care of his pet project.

She knew Phil would be upset by anyone thinking of him that way, but Fury made no secret about playing favorites and it was widely known (and questioned) that his current golden boy was Phil Coulson.  She found herself thinking it actually _was_ kind of flattering that Fury was okay with her being Phil’s back up. 

She took a slow inhale, setting aside everything else and focusing on what lay ahead.  She met Fury’s eyes with steady determination, “What’s the mission?”

He paused before answering, a ghost of approval in his eyes before he turned to pick up the 3rd folder on his desk, “Coulson is charged with drawing in a potential asset. I’ll be dealing with the heavy lifting once we have the target alone and amenable.”

He held out a bio sheet.  She gave it a quick glance, reading aloud,  “Dang Pitsuwan. Thai mogul and suspected arms trafficker.” She looked up, “He’s our target?”

“No.” Fury shook his head, “ _He_ is.” He handed her a blurry photograph of a young man with a shaved head. “Quyen No-last-name.”

He handed the full folder over to her, “He’s Dang’s employee and, we think, the secret to most of his heists.” He gestured to the photo, “This is the only image we have of him even though we _know_ he’s been involved with break ins to highly secured and monitored locations. The guy is either a master illusionist, has access to some advanced technology or something else entirely.” Fury paused, waiting for May to scan the file’s top page, “He might be someone we should index.  At the very least I want to talk.”

“Understood.” May nodded, “What’s the play?”

Fury smirked, “Pitsuwan operates a luxury resort on Ko Samui Island.  It’s popular with Western tourists.  We believe it’s also a front for his base of operations.  You and Agent Coulson will go in as newlyweds on honeymoon.  You have fun at the bar, attract attention to give Coulson some space to do recon and determine if Quyen is there and open for a friendly chat or if we need to use more persuasive means.”

She nodded. It wasn’t as fun as going in to kick ass, but certainly didn’t sound like an unenjoyable mission.  The file had pictures of the resort and she could understand why it was a popular destination.  It was also remote and she bit her lip, “Back up?”

“ _That’s_ the flattery.” Came the fast reply, “A full welcome wagon and extraction team can’t get closer than the mainland, 20 miles away.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “On the island you’re the only back up Phil’s got.”   

The full weight of the responsibility he was entrusting to her settled on her shoulders and she shifted. Phil was going to try and coax out an unknown asset under the eyes of a murderer and crime mogul and she was responsible for making sure he didn’t get himself crossed off in the process. 

Forget that she actually kind of liked the guy or that he was the favored protégé of SHIELD’s most unpredictable senior agent, he was a _person_.  A living, breathing person with a mother and a future.  She had never been responsible for a person before; not like this, not when disaster was the most likely outcome. 

Her gut twisted.

“You good with this, Agent May?” Fury’s head was tilted, eyes narrowed as if he could read the apprehension in her mind.

She swallowed, “Yes, Sir.  Of course, Sir.”

“Good.” He nodded. “I know you both have been eager for more responsibility, bigger missions and such.” He gestured to the folder, “I don’t have to tell you that this is your opportunity right here.  Lots of eyes on this one.  Don’t be screwing it up.”

“No Sir.” May promised despite the pit of doubt curling in her stomach.


	2. Chapter 2

“Fifteen for two, a pair to four and the jack makes five.” Melinda moved her peg up the board, absently pulling at the lace collar of her dress. 

“You okay?” Phil asked reaching for her cards and reshuffling them into the deck, “You’re fidgeting.”

They were sitting in the lounge area of one of SHIELD’s airborne mobile command stations only a few minutes from the airfield in Thailand.  They would take a resort helicopter to the island while the large plane would remain on the mainland, serving as Fury and the extraction team’s base of operations until Coulson sent the signal from the resort. 

“I don’t fidget.” She defended, forcing her hands to her lap, “But this thing itches.”

His eyes dropped to the low scoop neckline only to cough and shoot his eyes away a moment later. 

She smirked, “ _Charles_ , dearest, we’re newlyweds, you’re going to have to figure out how to look at my cleavage without blushing.”

“What? …I…wasn’t…I don’t…” He huffed out a breath and crossed his arms across his chest. “If you don’t like the dress, why’d you pick it?”

She shot him a glare, wordlessly calling out his blatant attempt to change the subject before glowering down at the embroidered, pale pink monstrosity that had been waiting for her along with ‘Heidi’s’ luggage in her bunk.  “I didn’t pick it.”

She frowned, glancing at Phil’s navy suit, “Wait...did you get to pick yours?”

An honest grin split his face as he looked down at his outfit, “Kind of.  Heidi and Charles are supposed to be rich so Fury sent me to a tailor. He picked out a lot of the details.”

He pulled at the sleeve, admiring the feel of the linen between his thumb and forefinger, “I’ve never had a suit this nice before.” He spoke in quiet appreciation, “I’m hoping they let me keep it when this is over.”

Melinda couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.  He was right, best she could tell, his normal wardrobe consisted of a rotation of slacks and jackets that had been purchased individually and over time off the rack from some generic department store. 

She had never been one to pay attention to fashion and hadn’t ever considered the power of quality fabric and a custom cut. The tailored lines of Phil’s new suit offered a stark contrast to the ill fit of his typical daily wear. Phil was no longer scrawny the way he had been when she first ran into him at the academy, he was still slight and lean but maturity and physical conditioning had broadened his shoulders and set his frame in a way she hadn’t previously noted until he had stepped out of his cabin in the new suit.

She reached a hand to feel the smooth fabric on his arm and nodded, “If they don’t let you keep it, I’ll help you steal it back.” She smirked, bouncing her eyebrows, “You can be James Bond for Halloween.” Flicking her eyes to his exposed chest hair and then up to his forehead she smiled, "Sean Connery version, of course."

"I still don't understand how you prefer Roger Moore over Connery." He guffed, fiddling with his collar, “I just wish they gave me a tie too.  I don’t get why I never get to wear them on these undercover ops.”

“You have _got_ to be the only man I’ve ever met who likes wearing ties.” She rolled her eyes, swatting at his hands, “And stop buttoning those top ones.  You’re an Upper East Side trust-fund kid on a honeymoon; keep your collar open.”

He grimaced and dropped his hands to the table, listlessly shuffling and dealing out another hand.

She didn’t bother picking up her cards, focusing on her partner's uncharacteristic disinterest. “What’s up Charles?” She frowned, the formal name still feeling odd on her tongue, “Do you think Heidi has nicknames for you?  Charlie?  Chuck?  _Chaaad_?” She brightened, “Oh! Chaz!”

He rolled his head back, speaking to the ceiling, “Why are you so happy?”

Melinda honestly couldn’t put a finger on it but she could feel the hum of energy buzzing through her as they got closer to their destination.  She shrugged, “We’re going to a luxury resort, in Asia, mostly unsupervised, to help take out a big baddie.” She smirked, “What’s not to be happy about?”

He raised an eyebrow, straightening his head to look back at her, “You _do_ recall that we aren’t taking anyone out, right?  That's the Index Evaluation team's job.  You and I are just recon.” He hardened his focus, “More specifically, _I’m_ recon.  You’re supposed to sit in the lobby and make friends; loudly.”

She glared at him before turning her attention to her cards. A crappy hand.  She allowed her shoulders to stoop, “How do you manage to make a real undercover mission sound lame?”

“I just don’t want you going all Rambo on everyone because you’re impatient with the mission parameters.” He looked at his own cards, eyes narrowing and tongue poking out as he ran the math in his head.

Melinda glared at him. Mission parameters. _Her_ mission parameters were to keep Phil safe; whatever it takes.  Fury had been quite clear about that; promised that her job was on the line over it. She didn't mind, she would prefer the opportunity to kick some gangster ass but but she'd never _actively_ hope for the mission to fall apart just because she was restless. 

She dropped her cards on to the table with a huff.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised, “Bad hand?”

“We’re almost there.” She gestured to the window by way of explanation for her sudden lack of interest. “You’re going to win anyway.”

He dropped his own cards without complaint, leaning back into the couch and fiddling with the buttons on his jacket.  They sat in silence, the whine of the plane engines providing a measure of their descent. 

Melinda sighed as they hit the tarmac, this was becoming real.  There was no way to be sure who worked for Pitsuwan so as soon as they stepped off the plane she and Phil would need to stay in character whenever they were in public.

One look at his stony expression and she could tell Phil was sharing the same thoughts.  His eyes flicked to hers and as soon as he registered she was watching him an easy smirk appeared, masking the previously bared contemplation. 

She exhaled and crossed her arms, “I can’t believe I agreed to spend a week doing nothing but smiling and flirting.”

“And watching my back.”  Phil glanced to the senior agents on the far side of the lounge before looking back to her, dropping his voice, “I know what Fury has asked of you and I don’t mind admitting that with the closest other back up 30 minutes away, it means a lot that you’re willing to do this.”

She frowned, “It’s my job.  Specialists are here to make sure field agents don’t get their skulls bashed in.”

“Well…that’s comforting.” He smirked, “But I meant this mission could be awkward in more ways than one.” He held up his left hand where a gold wedding band shone.

She rolled her eyes, “Phil. We learn about all the different kinds of covers over at operations.  Some hand holding and a couple of smooches for appearances isn’t a big deal.  It’s only going to be a problem if you can’t stop turning red like a little school boy.”

“You know…” He glared, eyes narrowed.

He was saved from completing his retort as Agent Fury descended the staircase, “Why are you still sitting there?  Time to go; chop chop!  Get your asses out that door.”

May shot up and was halfway to the back of the plane while Phil was still collecting the cards and cleaning off the table.

“Leave the damn cards, Rookie!” Fury shook his head, “C’mon now.”

She stood in the shadow of the hall smirking as Phil dropped the deck and board with a clatter.  “Yes…yes sir.” Phil hopped over the back of the couch to grab his suitcase.

“Hold up.” Fury held up his palm an inch from Phil’s chest, tilting his head and looking him over, “You got this, Rook?”

Melinda blinked at the quiet question. Never had she heard anything close to genuine care in the older Agent’s voice.  Despite knowing he likely intended it to be a private moment, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.

“I got it, Boss.” Phil affirmed, eyes wide and locked in with Fury’s.

There was a pause before the older man smiled and nodded, “Yeah you do.” He clapped a hand to Phil’s shoulder with enough force that her partner rocked from the impact. A neutral, “Nice suit.” Was the only other thing Fury had to say before stepping aside and allowing Phil to continue off the plane, “Try to bring it back without any blood or brain matter on it.”  As he disappeared toward the cockpit he muttered, “Never can get blood stains out of linen.”

May didn’t say anything to Phil about the moment as they continued out of the belly of the plane and crossed the tarmac and into a black town car. 

“Blake.” Coulson greeted.  She didn’t recognize the driver but Phil had on the grin that she had previously identified as his ‘I’m-thinking-nasty-things-about-you-but-you-can’t-prove-it-because-I’m-still-being-nice-to-you’ grin.

They put their bags in the trunk and after a 20 minute drive Blake pulled the car up to a gazebo on the edge of the water.  A helicopter stood waiting nearby.

After unloading their bags and opening the door for them Blake stood expectantly at Phil’s side, head tilted and eyes unrelenting until Phil pulled out his wallet and handed over some cash, “Thank you for all your assistance.   _Great_ chauffeuring.  Truly.”

His smile was forced and Blake grinned, “Oh thank _you_ Mr. Martin. I hope you and the missus have just a _wonderful_ honeymoon.”

Deciding to ignore whatever measuring contest was going on between her partner and this other agent, Melinda did her best ‘The-world-is-all-about-me’ strut up to the gazebo where a young man in a black resort uniform was finishing stowing their luggage in the helicopter.

“I’m starting to think I may have packed a bit much.” She smiled broadly, “I just could _not_ decide what to bring.  Never know what you might need at these remote places.”

“It is all a-okay.” The young man smiled. “Mr. Pitsuwan’s resort is best on island.  You will not need a thing.  If you do, he will take care of.  Mr. Pitsuwan is best at taking care of guests.  He always know what everybody want and need.  He know all things.”

“Sounds…Perfect.” She glanced over her shoulder, as Phil approached in time to hear their greeter’s assurances.

“Yes, it is.” He smiled naturally but his eyes made contact with hers and she knew he shared the same sense of foreboding. The look was short lived and his arm found its way around her waist, “What do you say Heidi, ready for our adventure?”

She reached for his hand, giving the fingers a squeeze, “Oh yes, Charles. I can’t wait.”

“Okay.  You get on the helicopter now then.” Their greeter guided them up a few steps and into the luxury helo, “You will be most excited for everything that is waiting for you.” He promised with a smile before sliding the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about the suits; Most of the time we see Coulson he is in tailored designer suits, but in the first Iron Man and in the season 4 flashback his suits aren't quite as nice or well fitted. (An intentional choice by the AoS costume designer). I have some head cannon about that which I hope to insert into the series if all goes according to plan. I also have a LOT of head cannon about Phil & Fury's relationship I hope to share through these stories.
> 
> Also - I'm hoping to find the answer to this without having to do a complete rewatch - do any tumblr/reddit folks know the times Coulson calls May by her first name on the show? I know it is significantly less than the times she calls him Phil. I'm hoping the specifics could help feed a plot bunny. 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING; hope this is keeping your interest as we roll into the meat of the adventure!


	3. Chapter 3

Melinda took a long centering breath.  The sun was still up but her body was screaming that it was well past time for sleep. She exhaled.  She’d had to stay awake well over 24 hours and even into 48 during academy training and one real op in the past year.  Sleep deprivation was nothing new. 

However, none of her training had included alcohol while suffering from jetlagged exhaustion. 

Next to her Phil, _Charles_ , leaned on the dark wood of the resort bar, staring languidly into his wine.  Turning his head, he gave her a weak grin.

She sighed, “Perhaps we shouldn’t push it for today, Dear.  We could order room service and get some rest.  Start fresh tomorrow.”

His eyes traced her face and she thought he was on the verge of agreeing with her until his gaze moved away, eyes darkening as he focused on someone behind her.

Without turning her head, she looked for a reflective surface so as to lay eyes on what had Phil’s attention.

In the polished brass of the beer tap, she saw him.  A young man, shaved head, wiping down a high top table behind her. 

Quyen.

She looked back to Phil. The hint of stubble darkened his normally smooth chin and there was a droop to the corner of his eyes.  He was as tired as she felt.  At heart he was an analyst, he _should_ know that the wise thing was not to engage; save the approach for a time when they both had more sleep.

But as he set his jaw and squared his shoulders Melinda knew that even more than an analyst, Phil had a hunger to prove himself as a man of action.  To what end, she didn’t know, all she did know was that there was no discrete way to stop him once he stood, buttoning his jacket.

So she did the next best thing; her job. 

Plastering on a wide grin she leaned over the bar intentionally allowing her neckline to drop open as she called the attention of the bartender, “Can I tell you something?  I think I’m bored of wine, I’m on vacation, can you suggest anything _fun_ for me to drink?”

The bartender didn’t bother to hide his eyes trailing down her neck before pulling them back up and smiling, leaning on the wood and effectively ignoring anything else in the room, “Why don’t you tell me somethings you like?”

Coming up with an inane answer was easy, the hard part was keeping part of her awareness on Phil as he approached Quyen.

“Excuse me.” Her partner stopped in front of the barback, “I’ve got an _awful_ scuff on my shoe.  Is there any chance I could borrow a cloth to give it a quick fix?”

The young man didn’t answer right away but after a moment he held out a spray bottle and a rag.

“Thanks.” Phil grinned kneeling and rubbing at the phantom mark on his shoe leather. “You know, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed you speak English.”

Quyen shifted, ““I speak little English.  I do learn English for work.”

“That’s great.” She could hear the over emphasized beaming in Phil’s voice, “Have you worked at the resort long?”

“I work for Mr. Pitsuwan for since I be child.” He nodded.

“Wow.” Phil paused, “He must be a very good boss.”

“He good man. My brother need help.” Quyen looked around, “Mr. Pitsuwan help.”

Phil frowned, “Is your brother okay now?”

His target looked down, resuming cleaning the table, “Boss give good life.”

Coulson stepped closer, voice dropping so May could barely hear it even as she strained, “Do you ever wish for a different life?”

The young man’s motions froze. Pulling back from the table, he straightened, hand with the rag close to his chest as he kept his attention to the ground. “I…I must go.”

May didn’t miss Quyen’s beeline to a dark door at the side of the lounge.  A sinking feeling settled in her gut as Phil returned to the bar.

“Oh, Charles, Mr. Ngyuen here just made me the most delightful cocktail made with chili, would you like to try it?” She beamed at him holding up the glass.

_Charles_ wore a sad smile, “You know I don’t do well with spicy things, Heidi.” His hand reached for hers, discreetly pressing her wrist twice - _be on alert._

She squeezed back - _I know._

He sighed, “Any chance you can get that concoction to go?  It’s been a long day and I wouldn’t mind heading back to the room.”

“Sounds good.”  She hoped she didn’t sound like she agreed too readily, though if the lurid smirk from the bartender was any indication, it wouldn’t be out of character for newlyweds in love to want to spend extra time alone in their room.

Smiling as broadly as she could manage at the bartender, she allowed Phil to clasp her hand and lead the way back to the room.

“Leaving before the evening gets started?”  A voice stopped them as they reached the stairs to the main lobby. 

A short man with a round torso and dark, slicked back hair, smiled at them, “Hello.  Please, allow me to introduce myself, I am Dang Pitsuwan; owner of this resort.  I try to greet all of our new guests; I am so sorry it took me this long to make time for the both of you, Mr. and Mrs… Martin, is it?”

“Oh, how charming!” May fawned, even as she noticed Quyen watching them from the shadow of the office door, “Yes, please, I’m Heidi and this is Charles.” She squeezed Phil’s fingers tight.

“Yes.” Phil stepped forward, extending his other hand to shake Pitsuwan’s “It’s truly a pleasure. Really a neat-o place you run here.”

“Well, I _am_ a businessman.” Pitsuwan smiled, “I know what it takes to best the competition.” He paused, eyes flicking between them, “All the highest technology and innovation.  You saw the TV?”

“Yes, projection, very impressive.” Phil nodded with the genuine smile of a man who appreciated tech, though Melinda could feel his pulse quicken under her fingers, “Of course the little lady here liked the cordless phone.”

“Indeed, spared no expense.” Their host leaned back, his surety faltering for a beat, “Are you headed back to the room now?  We have live music shortly.  I’d like the opportunity to get to know you both better.”

May felt herself tensing but Phil’s arm was suddenly around her shoulder and she was pulled tight to his side, “Maybe tomorrow night.  We just had our wedding two days ago and then spent the last day and a half traveling here so I think tonight we’re going to take it easy.” 

“I’m sure you will…” She fought back a shiver as Pitsuwan’s eyes traversed them with a slow leer, “Good for you; young love can be so… _fleeting_.” He leaned close to Phil, smirking and a pat on the shoulder, “I’ll be sure to keep my eye on you two.”

“Uh-heh.  Great. Looking forward to it; uh, seeing you more, again.” Phil smiled and nodded as May began edging them away from Pitsuwan and up the stairs.

“Shit.” Phil exhaled as soon as they were in the elevator.

May elbowed him in the ribs; they were still in a public place.

“I’m so awkward.” He covered smoothly, running a hand over his face, “That was the owner of the resort I just blew him off.”

“It’s alright Dear.” May assured with Heidi’s false lilt, “We have all week.”

 

Their room wasn’t far down the hall and as soon as they entered Phil exhaled, double locking the door before stripping off his suit jacket and collapsing onto the couch.

Melinda smirked but didn’t express too much sympathy as she stripped off her tight heels, exhaling as her bare toes curled into the lush carpet.  “Much better.” She murmured. 

Grabbing her small toiletry bag she moved to the bathroom, her face feeling thick with Heidi’s caked on makeup.

When they had first arrived a porter had accompanied them with their bags and opening the blinds.  The service was top notch but had not allowed for a thorough investigation of the space. 

Now she took her time.  Turning the small knob on the back of her broach she waived it around the entirety of the wall sized mirror, all the fixtures and any space there was a seam in the marble.  The small light stayed green and she sighed in relief.  No surveillance.

Washing her face she felt the nerves that had been plaguing her settle.  A good night’s sleep and they could discuss next steps in the morning.

She stepped out of the bathroom, padding a towel against her still damp face, “The bathroom is great.”

“TV isn’t.”

She removed the towel from her eyes at the comment.  Phil was standing at the television, shoulders bowed and his hair ruffled from where he had obviously run his hands through it. 

“I think something with the connection.” He muttered, while his eyes looked pointedly to his watch.  His SHIELD issued watch where a red light blinked each time he moved his hand close to the television set. 

She groaned, “So much for Mr. Pitsuwan’s high end technology.”

“Yeah.” Phil sighed, his exhaustion not helped by the realization that they couldn’t drop their covers even in the privacy of their hotel room.

Melinda bit her lip.  The pit in her stomach was back.  They had barely been on the island for 5 hours.  They hadn’t _done_ anything and already they’d had a face to face with the very bad guy they were supposed to avoid and had somehow aroused his suspicions.  

There were two options:

They could call it quits right now.  Send the signal to Fury and be extracted within the hour. 

Or…

Double down. Lean into their covers.  They _hadn’t_ done anything and if their act was convincing enough, maybe their host could be convinced his suspicions were misplaced.

She saw the indecision on Phil’s face.  She knew he was thinking through the same choice.  From the way he was staring at her it was clear he was leaving the call up to her; it was his mission but as the specialist, she was the one taking on heavier risks if things went south.

At the same time her mind flicked back to that moment on the plane; when Fury had his moment with Coulson; and she had seen the barely concealed desperation for approval in Phil’s wide eyes.

Those same blue eyes that were staring at her now.

Her lips pulled up in a smile.  They could do this.  And it might even be more than a little fun.

“I don’t think we really need the tv anyway.” She placed the hand towel down on the bureau, “It’s been a long few days and we’ve hardly had a moment alone.”

She watched his adam’s apple bob as she sauntered close, placing two hands on his chest and leaning close, “Come on, _husband_ , take me to bed.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is *the* chapter. There is some Hetero Smut here. I'm not great at writing it, and it's definitely not the most explicit stuff on this site (I tried to stay PG-13~ish) but enough that may make some readers uncomfortable.  
> I left a big gap in the text toward the bottom third. If you want to keep reading the story but skip the physical intimacy, just scroll down to that gap and it's "safe" after there.

With her shoes off, Phil seemed taller than normal and she had to stretch to wrap her hands around his neck.

For his part, her partner was absolutely frozen; eyes wide, lips parted, pulse visibly racing through a vein on his neck.

It would have been funny if they weren’t very likely on camera and their lives dependent on putting on a convincing act as husband and wife.

She splayed her fingers over the back of his head and pulled his face down until her mouth could meet the corner of his lips.  She repeated the motion, moving to his jaw and up his cheekbone until her lips were at his ear, “ _Don’t blow this._ ”

His eyes scrunched tight and she felt his exhale warm on her neck.  Then he moved, lips repeating what she had done to him; chaste kisses trailing from her ear to her cheek and jaw and then down the side of her throat, to her exposed collar bone.

His hands were in her hair and she allowed herself to smile, genuinely enjoying the sensations.

Melinda had enjoyed her fair share of dalliances but she had been so focused on being seen as an agent first and a woman last that it had been a long time since she had anything close to an intimate touch.

She let her hands wander over the smooth plane of his back, the linen shirt didn’t just look good, it was soft and smooth under her fingers.  His lips moved back to her neck and her fingers gripped at his sides.

Idly she wondered how it was possible for a man who had eaten an entire box of donuts on the plane to have not an ounce of fat to him.

Melinda sighed, it probably wasn’t a good thing if her mind was daydreaming about his metabolism.  Standing here, necking like teenagers was not going to do much to solidify their cover.

She pushed back, ignoring the question in Phil’s eyes as she floated her hands up his chest to begin undoing the buttons.

It wasn’t her first time seeing him without a shirt; two missions previous he’d given it up to warm and bandage a traumatized child Melinda had pulled from a collapsed building.  In that moment they had both been sweaty and soot stained, focused on the mission of protecting civilians from the battles being fought by more experienced agents.

This was different. There were no superior agents for 20 miles, there were no civilians needing to be saved, no buildings on the verge of collapse. She could take her time.  It wasn’t like she was particularly attracted to him; she tended to prefer tall men with thick hair and defined muscle and Phil…Phil was just Phil.  Not bad looking, but definitely more in the ‘he makes me laugh’ category than the ‘he’s so dreamy.’ 

Still, Melinda couldn’t deny a pull toward the man in front of her. She supposed it was more curiosity; for someone who never stopped talking, she didn’t know much about Phil. She rested her hands on his now bare chest, letting her thumbs glide through the hair, eyes seeking out hidden details, absently noting the path of his freckles, the tan line at his neck and the white of few scattered scars.

His hands were warm on her shoulders, roaming safely down her arms.  She raised her eyes up to his and, with a quirk of her eyebrows and tilt of her chin, gave him permission to reach behind her and lower the zipper on her dress.

The hand on her upper arm tightened as she shimmied her shoulders, allowing the dress to drop to the ground.  She leaned into him again, finding his lips with her own while encouraging his hands to the edge of her bra.

After a moment of tracing the lace with his thumbs he moved his hand to the back clasp.  She pressed her chest to his, waiting the release of the restrictive garment. 

…and waited…

…and waited…

He now had both hands around her back, alternatively squeezing and pulling. 

“Charles, honey, it’s just two hook and eyes.” She muttered into his neck, pinching the skin under his armpit, “If you stretch out this bra you’re going to have to buy me a new one.”

A low grumble and a muttered curse floated from over her shoulder. Phil’s chin was now resting on her neck so he could see what his hands were doing. 

She rolled her eyes, “Do you want me to…” She bent a hand up her back, but he swatted it away.

“Gimme a chance.” He grimaced.

Before she could point out she had given him two minutes worth of chances there was a pinch and a snap and she felt the garment release. 

She snickered in to his chest while his fingers moved to her shoulders, finding the straps and guiding them down her arms.  He tossed the broken garment to the chair, fingers coming back to her hands, thumbs stroking her knuckles as he looked down her exposed front.

“You’re amazing…” His voice came out like a low growl and Melinda felt the hair on the back of her neck tingle.

She moved to lean back in to him but as if hit by the realization of the moment, Phil stiffened again, cheeks reddening and eyes focusing somewhere over her shoulder.

She kept herself from rolling her eyes in frustration.  They seriously should have had a more in depth talk before agreeing to the details of this mission.  She should have known a communications trained agent wouldn’t be prepared for the more complicated possibilities of a deep cover incursion.

She looked down to try and gather herself and think of a way to get his head in the game; but when he shifted his weight she realized she may have been mistaken as to the exact reason _why_ Phil had pulled back. 

She smirked at the clear pressure on the front of his pants.  When Fury had questioned if either of them were gay there was a part of her that suspected Phil might be, what with his soft eyes and almost total lack of acknowledgement of her feminine attributes.  Yet, here was some pretty damning evidence that he found her attractive. 

Well, _this_ she could have some fun with.

When she looked back up she put on her most alluring gaze and licked her lips. She pressed her bare chest to his and palmed the seam of his pants while whispering, “How about you take me to bed and get out of these pants?”

She had been prepared for his blush to deepen.  She had been prepared for him to attempt some stuttered line of seduction.  She had been prepared for any number of awkward reactions which would provide volumes of fodder for future teasing.

What Melinda May was _not_ prepared for was a deep growl emanating from Phil Coulson’s chest before he picked her up by her waist, forcing her legs around his hips before striding to the bed and depositing her on the mattress.

She barely had time to register what had just happened before he was above her, elbows braced on either side of her head, his lips capturing hers with a surety and dominance that left her at a momentary loss as to what _she_ should be doing in the moment. 

She returned the kiss, tongue fighting his and her hands flailed, landing first on his hips, then his stomach, his back and up to his shoulders before settling for happily exploring the cut of his biceps, now more defined as he planked over her.

His lips left hers and returned to her neck, nipping and sucking in a way she was certain would leave a mark. She didn’t bother to contain a purr of satisfaction.  She had thought they might have some fun but she never anticipated how much want he could draw out of her.  Blindly, her hand moved down his front, seeking his belt.

She had only begun to pull on the leather when calloused fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her hand back and pinning it to the bed.

“ _Don’t._ ” There was no mistaking the warning in Phil’s voice as his breath shuddered against her neck.

She grimaced, why couldn’t he just let go and relax?  He was only making it harder on himself by trying to follow some kind of rules. This would be so much easier if they just did the deed and then they could finally fall asleep; satiated and safe.

He nuzzled her neck some more, murmuring into her hair, “I have a plan.”

“I can feel your _plan._ ” She whispered, biting on his earlobe, “That’s what I’m trying to reach but your damn pants are in the way…”

He grunted and shook but did not release his hold on her wrist.  She pouted. His eyebrows arched but she couldn’t bother to care.  It was his fault she felt the heat coiling between her legs.  There was no damn reason not to do something about it.

Bending her neck she licked his nipple.  He jerked back and released her wrist and with a buck of her hips and push of her feet she had flipped them, leaving him staring up at her in shock.

“Now _this_ is more fun, my Pooh Bear.” She smirked, sitting her rear back on his hips, her hands gliding from his abs to his shoulders.

He groaned, but made no effort to move from his prone position, “Pooh Bear?”

“New nickname I’m trying out.” She shrugged, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

Phil snorted, his hands came up, cupping her breasts, and she felt him twitch beneath her as his thumbs rolled over her nipples, “It’s not a good one.”

“I don’t really care.” She smiled widely, leaning forward.

He smiled up at her, a hand cupping her cheek. He took a long steadying breath, “Alright.”

She eyed him, wanting to be sure she was reading him right.

He gave her a subtle nod and it was more effort that she cared to admit to keep her tongue from her lips as she reached down, opening his belt and popping the button on his fly.  She had to be gentle with the zipper, and she looked up to him as she pulled it down, pushing on the fabric of his trousers as she moved.

Instead of watching her as she anticipated, his head was hidden between the pillows, eyes focused on the ceiling, lips moving.  She was about to ask if he was okay when she caught fragments of the words he was mouthing; Pippen followed by Jordan.

…Basketball.  He was reciting the roster of the Chicago Bulls.

She narrowed her eyes, and crawled over him, “Come on Charles…what’s next?”

“GAH!” He exhaled somewhere between a whimper and a shout, slamming a fist down to the mattress and pulling sharply away, sitting up.

She blinked, at an absolute loss, “Ph-Charles?”

He was looking away, fiddling with the edge of a pillow, “I’m sorry for getting angry Darling.  I just…” He grimaced, angling his hips beneath the duvet, “Must be the jet lag, and then the wine…I really wanted to be there for you tonight but I am exhausted, you know how I can be when I’m tired.”

Her eyes widened and flicked down, nothing had changed.  When she looked back up he was holding her gaze with fierce intensity.  So _this_ was his plan? She took a long inhale.

“I’m sorry hon.” She let her disappointment show as she reached over, stroking his cheek, “What can I do to help the little guy? How about let’s try a warm shower; you’ve never had a problem there.”

He swallowed and relief flooded his features as he nodded, “Yes, yes, that’s a _great_ idea. I’ll go get it started.”

She leaned against the pillows, watching with a smirk as he struggled out of the bed, Pulling his pants back up and navigating the room in a manner to obscure his obvious state of arousal from whatever surveillance.

She heard the shower turn on and decided to give him a minute.  If she was honest, Melinda needed a moment to herself to process what the hell had just happened.  She knew they needed to play up their physical relationship for whatever surveillance was in their room and maybe she hadn’t minded the idea of a little make out session with one of the few men who had never shown her anything less than respect. 

Melinda wasn’t sure how far she had intended it to go but even with him absolutely _wrecking_ her bra, she certainly hadn’t minded how it ended up; his weight on top of her, one wrist restrained above her head…

She blinked and shook her head.  Nope. _Not_ going to focus on that memory.  Not okay.  She wasn’t sure how much of it had been an intentional act on his part but she _knew_ there were moments he had lost control.  So had she.  What they did next was important not only in maintain their cover but also maintaining their working relationship.  

 

 

 

By the time May arrived in the bathroom Phil was finishing in the shower.  The glass door opened and he stepped out, still wearing his plaid boxers, soaked through.  She could tell the cold shower had its intended effects.

She leaned against the vanity, “Do you usually shower in your underwear?”

“Well I knew you’d be coming in and GAH!” He blinked as he pulled the towel away from his face, “You’re still half naked!” He took a step back, and his eyes flew to the ceiling.

She snorted, “It’s not like I’m going to put on a bra and shirt before  joining my husband in the shower.”

Phil sighed, gesturing in the direction of the towel rack, “Can you put a towel on or something before I get a crick in my neck?”

“Or how about you try getting over yourself?” She sighed, grabbing a towel, “They’re just breasts.  Nipples just like yours.”

“No...no…no they are not just like…” He stuttered, checking to make sure she was covered, “Look I’m just trying to be professional here.”

“Professional. Yeah.” She tucked in the edge of the soft terry cloth, “Not even 2 minutes ago you had your hands all over them.”

Phil’s jaw tensed and his eyes avoided hers as he reached for his own towel.

He opened his mouth but she cut him off, “I swear to God if you are about to apologize I will knock you on your ass.”

He pressed his back against the wall and turned his face to the ceiling.  “I just…” He swallowed, “I wasn’t as much in control as I should have been.” 

"It wasn't a problem." She had already known that to be the case but the same was true for her; and she certainly wasn’t going to condemn either of them for enjoying the moment.  

"I know." His grin was sad, "But I just feel like there are some lines that shouldn't be crossed unless there is some meaning to it, y'know?" He shrugged, "It might be old fashioned but, feels right."

She didn't have a response.  She didn't disagree but she couldn't say she really agreed either.  Sex was fun and sex could be a tool.  It was short sighted to try and keep it in some idealized little box.

Instead she guided him back to safer grounds, mission planning.  “We could be here for 5 more nights; What’s the plan? You not going to be able to get it up for the whole week?”

“I dunno.” Phil grimaced, crossing his arms, “Maybe _Charles_ has a condition.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to fly.” Melinda leaned back, “You barely talked to Quyen and that was all it took for Pitsuwan to suspect something is up.  There’s no going back to being unnoticed.”

Phil bit his lip, brow furrowed, “You’re right.” For the first time he managed to look her in the eye, “Maybe we shouldn’t try.”

“Meaning?” She gripped the edge of the vanity.

“Let’s make a scene.” He smirked, “Tomorrow.  At the bar.  You flirt with anything that moves and I’ll get jealous and throw a fit.  Maybe it’s enough that some of the staff pull me aside and I can have a chance to check some more things out.”  He shrugged, “At the very least it will provide cover for me to sleep on the couch tomorrow night.”

Melinda huffed.  It wasn’t a bad plan.  But yet again it involved her doing nothing but being a pretty bar fly, “For the record?  This mission sucks; can’t fight and can’t fuck.”

Phil rolled his eyes, “You can fuck; just not with me…” He froze, lips pursed as his eyes darted back and forth, “…Wait… did you?… You know what? No.  Nevermind.” He shook off the moment and plowed ahead. “Let’s just get through tonight. We both need some sleep. If I can get close to the staff tomorrow maybe I can find something that’s enough to bring in Fury and then we don’t need to worry about any more nights.”

“Sounds good to me.” She had been _done_ with this conversation since before it started.  She stepped around him reaching for the shower, “My turn.”

His eyebrows arched and she rolled her eyes, “You’re not the only one who needs a cold shower.”

His eyes darkened and a smug smirk grew. 

She shoved him aside and dropped her towel, “Don’t get cocky.  I had plenty of time to daydream while you were fumbling with my bra.”

The virility dropped from his face, replaced with indignance, “I wasn’t…that was…I was _pretending_ …trying to…it was an act!”

“Mhrm.” She patronized, stepping into the shower and closing the door, leaving him spluttering his defense.

She heard him brush his teeth before leaving the room. 

Melinda reached for the temperature knob, warming the water and letting her hand wander; a little more daydreaming before bed wouldn’t hurt…


	5. Chapter 5

Melinda woke first.  After the previous night’s activities they had silently agreed to share the bed, him in a tshirt and boxers, her in a tank and panties. It hadn’t taken long to fall into exhausted slumber, separated by the expanse of the king sized mattress.  Despite the distance they ended up facing one another, close enough that fingers and legs intertwined.

While the Operations Academy instructors had been very clear in preparing students for the potential for sexual encounters while undercover, Melinda mused that they had not provided nearly enough guidance for how to handle the morning after.

Melinda allowed herself a moment to watch her partner sleep.  He was frowning. Not in a pained or stressed way; but still clearly a frown.  Phil was constantly smiling or grinning while awake, especially when the situation didn’t call for it, and Melinda found the steady, small frown not only surprising but unnerving.

Instinctively she wanted to reach out and try to soothe away the expression.  She shoved aside that thought. Instead, she gave his fingers a quick squeeze before she rolled to her back and squeezed her eyes.

She wasn’t good at doing nothing.  She never lounged in bed, always rolling off the mattress with the same motion that she used to silence her alarm.  Mornings were for training and meditation, a time to bolster herself for whatever the day held.

Of course video surveillance and her cover as a spoiled Manhattan socialite meant tai chi or kata practice was out of the question. Still, it fit that a woman in her shape would practice some kind of basic fitness.

She poked Phil’s shoulder.  He didn’t move. She poked him again, moving from his arm to his neck and cheek.  It wasn’t until she poked his ribs that he started awake, eyes cloudy and blinking at her in confusion. 

She smirked, “Charles honey. I’m going for a jog.”

“Mrphf…” He spoke into his hands, dragged across his face, eyes clearer when he spoke again, “Give me 5 minutes and I’ll join you.”

No other words were exchanged as they each got up and changed. 

They took an easy pace jogging through the resort compound but once they made it off property they silently agreed to turn the tempo up; picking the pace until she could feel each beat of her heart and she had to focus on her breaths.  She focused all the pent up energy from the night before into moving her legs forward, pushing herself to keep up with Phil’s longer strides.

After about 6 miles they came to another edge of the island and while they slowed their pace to watch the sunrise over the scenic overlook, they neither spoke nor so much as looked at each other.  Melinda wasn’t sure what he was thinking but she honestly didn’t know what to say to him that hadn’t been said last night. 

When they hit the beach they turned around and raced back, slowing to a cool down pace once the resort came into view. 

She took a long shower, allowing her breath to chase the water and steal her with a new and steady calm. 

She smiled as she stepped back into the room; Phil was in a pair of khaki slacks, standing barefoot and bare chested in front of the closet examining the shirts he had available.

He didn’t jump to cover himself like he had the one time she had walked in on him in the process of removing his shirt in the gym; if the previous night meant he’d relaxed a bit around her, Melinda counted it as a good thing.

She busied herself straightening the bed and when he’d finally chosen a light blue linen button up, she followed him into the bathroom, joining him at the sink to brush her teeth.

“I hadn’t realized you were such a close horse.” She tried teasing, the first words between them since she had woken him up.

He shrugged, “My Dad always said it’s how a man shows respect.” 

She cocked an eyebrow but didn’t remove the toothbrush from her mouth.

“If you wear a dirty shirt and ripped jeans it tells people what you think of them and of yourself.” He explained, looking at himself in the mirror, “My Dad was always in a shirt and tie; football practice, little league games...”  Phil smirked, “Sometimes even working on the car in the garage.”

The smirk faltered and he looked down at himself and then to her, “What a man wears is important.”

Melinda couldn’t help but smile.  SHIELD regulations weren’t as strict for agents in the field and it had not gone without notice that Phil was one of the few who consistently maintained the jacket and tie standard.  

She also knew how rare this personal anecdote was; after a year and a half dozen missions she knew surprisingly little of the man who trusted her with his life.  She felt privileged for the moment. 

“That’s why you like ties so much?”  She guessed.

“That…” The grin strengthened again, “And they can be handy; tourniquet, restraint, rope...”

“Noose?” She added with a smirk of her own.

He narrowed his eyes, “Remind me to be more afraid of you.”

“If you aren’t already you should be.” She sassed, “But that’s not the point, we need to leave this bathroom eventually.  What’s the plan?”

He wiped the toothpaste from his mouth and finished buttoning his shirt, “Let’s kill some time by going back out to the main room and deciding on a morning resort activity like a couple would, then lunch at the bar.  Are you still okay with having a big fight?”

Considering how frustrated he had made her last night, and how little their run had done to calm the tension she felt, Melinda doubted she’d have any problem doing some yelling. "Looking forward to it.”

"Uh…Okay.” Phil clearly heard the stress in her voice and he swallowed before nodding, “Then that’s the plan.  You see if you can get anything from the bartender and I’ll look around elsewhere.  If we see Pitsuwan we put the honeymooner act on high gear and do whatever it takes to retreat.  He’s not our target.”

“I know. I know.” Melinda finished applying more mascara than she normally would.  “Let’s go plan our morning.”

* * *

 

“Well then I just _knew_ Manhattan was the place for me, you know?”  May leaned across the bar, smiling widely at the bar tender and throwing a wink to the older Englishman next to her. “And honestly the tour was lovely this morning, but all those trees and insects and birds.” She shuddered, “Give me a concrete sidewalk and a black town car any day; am I right?”

Phil rolled his eyes, “I thought you like the rainforest?”

“Conceptually, Dear.” She sighed, “And of course I’m all for saving it from poachers or _whatever_ it is but who wants to spend time that close to nature?”

“What about my family’s place upstate?” He frowned, “When Mother and Father retire they are going to give it to us.”

She propped her elbow on the bar, “Seriously, _Charles_ , do you see _me_ living on a _farm_?”

His brow knotted, “You said you loved it!”

“That was when I was being polite to your parents.” She waved her free arm, spilling some of her martini, “They look very adorable there with their field, but I certainly didn’t mean I _wanted_ it!” She shrugged, “We can just sell it.”

“Sell…sell it?!” He stammered, “It’s been in my family for generations!” He shook his head, “I always thought it would be a great place to raise kids away from the city; I can’t believe you’re just telling me this now.”

“Pffft” She blew out, “Don’t worry, Honey.  If last night is any indication, kids won’t be a problem for us to worry about.”

Melinda took a moment to appreciate how good of an actor Phil could be as he let his face flush a deep red while ‘Charles’ gaped at her, eyes wide.

“I _told_ you it was just the jetlag.” He muttered, eyes flicking to the others at the bar who were clearly only pretending not to listen.

May blinked innocently, “Oh right.  So tell me, was it the jetlag that kept your hands and your mouth to yourself?   Or is the rule that if you can’t get off neither does your wife?”

“You could have _asked_!” He whisper yelled.

She shook her head, “I shouldn’t need to.” A cruel smirk pulled up her lips, “I never needed to ask Reggie…”

Someday she would need to learn to anticipate when Phil was going to react, because yet again she was caught unawares and her jump was genuine when he flung his beer bottle against the back of the bar.

“ _You whore._ ” He snarled, pulling away from two resort employees who had also jumped at the thrown glass and were now trying to pull him away. “You _fucking_ whore!”  He made a good show of attempting to resist the other men, “Look who’s made herself the center of a scene again!” He looked wildly around the bar, “I don’t care.  Now all these people know I’ve married a selfish, stupid whore!”

A third, larger man arrived and calmly put his elbow around Phil’s neck, softer than a chokehold but tight enough that he’d have no choice but follow, “Come on buddy, let’s go cool down.”

Melinda had no problem appearing shaken as she watched them pull Phil behind the same dark door that Queyn had disappeared behind last night.  This plan required Phil to be on his own for an extended time frame, with no way to inform her that he was in trouble.

Best she could do was remain at the bar, close to the door and close to the phone.

“You okay?” The bartender was leaning over, looking at her with soft eyes while the other patrons made exaggerated efforts not to look at her at all.

She sighed, “I’m not Mr. Ngyuen.   I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake in marrying that man.”

With a silent smile he slid a new martini to her across the bar.

“Make sure that one is on the house, Mr. Ngyuen.” A slippery voice came from over her shoulder.

Melinda turned, swallowing her discomfort as Dang Pitsuwan settled on to the stool next to her.

“You and your husband have made quite the scene.” He leaned back in his chair, head tilted.

She swallowed, “I am so dreadfully embarrassed.” She put on a big smile and bat her eyelashes, “You have such a wonderful property, I hate to compromise our welcome.”

He waved a hand in dismissal, “A good marriage has it’s difficult, and loud, moments.  A little fighting is no problem.”  The light smile dropped and he leaned close, a hand wrapping tightly around her wrist, “Dishonesty and espionage, now _that’s_ a problem.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Last time on Agents of Shield ... Dang Pitsuwan waved a hand in dismissal, “A good marriage has it’s difficult, and loud, moments.  A little fighting is no problem.”  The light smile dropped and he leaned close, a hand wrapping tightly around her wrist, “Dishonesty and espionage, now that’s a problem.”_

Melinda’s eyes went wide and she tried to jerk her hand away, “Sir, I do not know what you are talking about but please let go of me.”

A sneering smile curled his lips, exposing his teeth as he spoke quiet enough that the other bar patrons could not overhear, “I think you do.  It was a valiant effort but I’m afraid it was a waste.” His eyes swept over her, “I’ve had too many intelligence agents try to take me down; I can tell a sham when I see one. You were a little _too_ surprised by your darling husband.”

Something hard pressed her side. “How about we take this somewhere more private?” Pitsuwan pressed the concealed gun tighter to her ribs.

With a hesitant glance to the door Phil had disappeared behind, and the handful of oblivious patrons in the bar, Melinda nodded, allowing the resort owner to lead her away.

“I hate to burst your ego but _you’re_ not the target.” She muttered.  There was no benefit to keeping up the cover now. 

Pitsuwan harrumphed, “You don’t need to lie dear. Your partner will tell my associates everything.”

Melinda’s breath tightened and her captor laughed, navigating her to a small office at the side of the main lobby, “It was a bold play; allowing himself to be taken by my staff.  I would think he’s regretting it right about now.”

“What are you doing to him?” Melinda ground out, eyes flicking around the room.

Closing the door behind him, Pitsuwan maneuvered to face her, the gun leveled between them, “Me?  _I_ am not doing anything.  My people are well versed in various methods of persuasion.” He grinned, “I hope you didn’t enjoy his fingers too much; I doubt he’ll be keeping them all.”

She clenched her jaw.  She had been trained since day one: Mission before the man.  But this time the mission _was_ the man.  She should have put her foot down when Phil first suggested this crazy idea.  She was supposed to be his back up, his protection.  How could she do that when they were separated? 

She was going to be lucky if she managed to drag him back half alive, tormented by who knows what.  Fury would rip her to shreds and then she’d kick her own ass with whatever was left.

“So.” Pitsuwan leaned forward, “I don’t _need_ any information from you; but if you’d like to talk I’m sure we could see to shortening the suffering of poor Charles…or whatever his name is.”

Melinda cracked her knuckles by her side, the time for listening was over. 

Before Pitsuwan could make another taunting remark, she swiped out, pushing aside the hand with the gun and twisting it up and behind his back until the weapon dropped into her hand.  Simultaneously, swiping at his legs with her own, she used the momentum to slam his head on to the desk, rendering him immediately unconscious.

Looking around for anything to secure him, she smirked and reached for his tie.  “Don’t tell Phil that maybe he has a point about these things.” She spoke the unconscious man as she bound his hands before dragging him into the office’s closet and propping a chair under the knob.

She stepped out to the empty lobby, casually closing the door behind her and turned for the bar only to be nearly bowled over by Phil.

His eyes were wide and he was sweaty, a bead of blood rolling over his ear but he was very much alive and with all 10 fingers.

“We gotta go.” He didn’t give a moment for her to ask any questions, just reached for her wrist and pulled her after him, running in the opposite direction of the bar.

She yanked her wrist from his hold and snarled, “Want to fill me in?”

He nodded, not breaking speed, taking the steps two at a time, “Yeah, sure, absolutely. Just how about not while we’re being chased by a giant?”

“A…” She narrowed her eyes as a loud clattering drew her attention.  Rounding the corner at a determined pace was a very large, very determined, and seemingly angry man.

To their right was the door to an emergency stairwell. Phil noticed at the same time and pulled it open. Waiting for him to step over the threshold, Melinda slammed the heavy metal door closed between them and turned back to their snarling attacker, bracing herself.

She had fisted her hands in the ready position when there were two loud bangs from over her shoulder and the man dropped, howling and pressing his hands to the blood seeping from his knees.

She turned on her heel, the fire in her eyes seeking out Phil as he lowered the gun and glared back at her.

 

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

 

She huffed, not nearly as amused as he seemed to be at their simultaneous anger. “ _I_ was trying to do my job, keep _you_ safe long enough to call Fury.”

He glared back, grabbing her bicep despite her yanking it away, and dragging her into the stairwell, “And _I_ was running to some place a little less conspicuous, trying to create as little of a scene as possible.”  He looked out the small window in the door, “We still have to wait around here until back up arrives and having a big ol’ fight at the edge of the atrium is not exactly conducive to keeping the rest of the employees off our backs.”

She crossed her arms, refusing to acknowledge his point. “Are you going to send the signal or are you going to keep wasting time?”

He stared at her, “That’s it?  No more argument?”

She just tilted her head, eyebrows arched.

“Okay…” He nodded, pulling a beeper out of his pocket. Flicking open the QWERTY keyboard he paused to show it to her, “Cool, huh?” He smirked at her as he typed ‘HOSTILE - XTRACT’ and sent off the message, “It’s one of the newest two way pagers.”

“You’re a regular Maxwell Smart.” Melinda rolled her eyes, despite Phil’s obvious appreciation of her pop culture reference.

He swallowed his grin, “Okay, we need to find a way to make ourselves scarce until the cavalry arrives.”

With a nod to the stairs they moved in sync, following the emergency exit up to the roof access. 

Exiting first, Melinda surveyed the area with the gun she lifted from Pitsuwan, scowling when she realized Phil had followed her out, “You’re supposed to wait for me to announce it’s clear.”

He shrugged, moving some rebar in attempt to bolt the door shut, “Even if it wasn’t I’m probably safer up here with you then alone in a stairwell.”

She sighed, lowering the weapon.  “So what do you think? 20 minutes?”

“Hopefully less.” Phil looked over the edge of the building, “With all the surveillance everywhere I doubt it will take them long to figure out where we went.”

Melinda smirked, “Don’t worry about Pitsuwan.”

“I’m not…” He turned to look at her, “I _wasn’t_ worried about Pitsuwan; what did you do?”

“Knocked him out and shoved him in a closet.” She frowned, “Why aren’t you concerned about him?”

“Because he’s not the boss.” Phil replied, still frowning at Melinda’s exploits. “Why’d you…”

She waved off the question, “What do you mean, he isn’t the boss?  He said he was having his men torture you.”

“Torture?” Phil blinked, “No, no everything really was going according to plan. I was playing the wounded husband bit, connecting with the guys over how women can be difficult…”

Melinda narrowed her eyes and he held up his hands, “ _Charles_ said it.  Not me.”

She relented and he smirked again.  “ _Anyway_ this young guy on crutches just looked at me and announced I was lying.”

“What gave you away?” She crossed her arms, “I bet it was the eye contact.”

“No.” Phil was steady, “It was Quyen’s brother. They were both born in Cambodia during the war when the US was dropping Agent Orange and God knows what else.  Turns out the brother can’t read minds but he can kind of get into them or something?” He winced at the insufficient information, “All I know is that the rest of the gang trusted him completely when he said he knew I wasn’t who I said I was and that I had been sent here by a black American.”

“That’s…oddly specific.” Melinda leaned against a bulkhead.  “What’d you do?”

“I came clean.” Phil shrugged, “Said that the man he knew about was my boss who wanted to offer him and his brother assistance in getting out from Pitsuwan’s control.”  He winced, “The only problem is apparently Pitsuwan has been under _Quyen’s_ control.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” She straightened.

“It didn’t make sense to me either, until I realized Quyen is a powered person too.  He kind of…” He grimaced, hand gesticulating as he searched for the right word, “Flickers.”

“Flickers?” Melinda repeated.

“Yeah.” Phil nodded, “Not invisible, I mean you can see him okay enough but it’s like a strobe or something.  It’s why he hasn’t shown up on the footage of any of the heists, the frame rate of the cameras can’t catch him.”

“He was committing the heists on his own?”

“But he couldn’t sell anything.” He gestured, “Poor kid from Cambodia doesn't have a lot of contacts to unload black market chemical weapons so he used his brother to mess with Pitsuwan’s head and got themselves a fence; selling what was stolen and hiding them both from the rest of the world.”  He scratched his neck, “Best I could figure, Pitsuwan is still a bad guy but anything in the last year hasn’t been on him.  Quyen has been calling the shots.”

Melinda frowned, “Pitsuwan pulled me aside, said he knew we were from some intelligence agency and wanted me to talk because you were being tortured.” She narrowed her eyes, “How’d you get them to tell you all that?”

Phil stared back at her, an amused little grin on his face even as his eyes were soft, “ _It’s my job,_ Melinda.” He shrugged, “I can’t fight a room full of assailants or climb a building without a rope, but I can get people to talk to me.  Why else do you think I’m here?”

Through all the teasing sometimes she forgot to see him as anything more than her bumbling partner.  Maybe it was a throwback to the old Academy attitude, but despite the amount of times he’d proven himself to be a quick thinker and resilient, the fact that he needed protection somehow made her forget that he was an agent in his own right. 

Melinda had previously identified being underestimated as an asset of his, she hadn’t thought she’d succumbed to it herself. 

“Right.  Of course.” She mumbled, looking away and then back up, “So, uh, then what’s up with…” She gestured to the blood on the side of his head, “And the giant?”

“Well, things only go well for so long, you know?” He shuffled, “Didn’t take long for Quyen and his brother to realize that I wasn’t going to just walk away and let them to continue stealing and selling black market weaponry so I had to run.” 

He brought up a hand to touch the side of his head, “I may have been tossed into a wall, I’m actually a little cloudy on that bit; I might be a little concussed but it’s fine.  Kicked the guy in the balls and bought myself time to meet up with you.”

Melinda smiled, feeling slightly less bad about her protective instincts. “Let me see.”

She gestured and he stepped closer, bending his head and allowing her fingers to prod his hair line, searching for the source of the blood. 

“There’s a pretty good bump there.” She confirmed, “But it seems you’ll live.”

“Well that’s good news.” He smiled but didn’t step away as his eyes met hers.

She dropped her hand to his shoulder, making steady eye contact, “I’m glad you weren’t being tortured.”

“Yeah, that would have sucked.” He nodded, his tone more jovial than she felt the topic merited.

“It _would_ have.” She repeated, squeezing his shoulder before stepping away. “It was a really stupid plan.  You _could_ have been tortured and I’d have had no way of knowing.”

He made a face, “What are you upset about?  It worked out in the end.  We’re both fine.”

“Yeah, by the skin of our teeth.” She shook her head, unable to get past how incredibly frustrating his nonchalance was, “You could have been killed, Phil.”

Instead of sobering, his smile grew, “Are you saying you would be upset if I died?”

She narrowed her eyes, “ _No._ That is not what I’m saying.”

“Not even a little bit?” He leaned in, grinning.

She huffed, “Maybe a little bit.”

He leaned back, taking his victory.

Melinda shook her head.  When she had imagined life in the field she always pictured dark hallways, whispered commands and a grim partner.  Waiting for an extraction on the roof of a luxury resort in the midday sun joking with someone as indescribable as Phil was something she never saw coming. 

He was looking back at her, grin faded, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you weren’t really in trouble either.  I got a little nervous when you weren’t at the bar.”

“I can take care of myself.” She assured, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the sun.

“I know.” The sudden deep timber to his voice had her opening her eyes and looking back to him.  His grin was gone and his gaze unfocused, somewhere to the ground on his right, “But that doesn’t always mean things work out.”

She frowned at the turn in tone.  What was he…? 

Her eyes widened as she remembered what must be occupying his thoughts.  “I heard about John Garrett.” She tilted her head. “I’m sorry, Phil.”

She waited for him to look back to her.  She didn’t know much, only that Garrett had been on a mission and called for emergency extract but by the time a team was able to make it, he was gone.  She also knew the man may have been abrasive but he meant a lot to Phil.

“Fury’s not giving up.” Phil toed a pebble across the roof. “They found a lot of blood but no body.  He says we don’t give up until there’s a body.  John’s tough.”

“Yes, he is.” Melinda nodded.  After waiting a long quiet moment, she smirked, “Besides, he needs to show up, who else is going to help me make fun of you for how long it takes you to unhook a bra?”

His eyes widened and he gaped at her, “Are you…I didn’t…I was just….”

Melinda laughed. It was too much fun to get him wound up. 

She was stopped from needling him further by the distant sound of air turbines. She looked to him, “What happens now?”

Phil shrugged, “I suppose they’ll pick us up, I’ll debrief and then Fury will go in.  I planted a tracker on Quyen so they’ll be able to find him even if it takes a little while.”

Before Melinda could ask any follow up there was a muffled sound and the building shook under their feet.

She looked to Phil who seemed just as confused as she was until his eyes widened.  She looked over her shoulder to see what he saw; flames coming up the corner of the building and a crack spreading across the roof.

 

“RUN!”

 

She didn’t need his instruction to start moving to the metal escape ladder on the opposite side of the roof. 

He reached it first, waiting for her.  She grimaced but didn’t argue, jumping on to the ladder and beginning to climb. 

They weren’t far down when the ladder begin to pull away from the wall. 

Taking in their situation she knew she could make the jump to the window sill and navigate her way down the remaining 30 feet, but she doubted Phil could. 

Without thinking she moved to the underside of the ladder and climbed back up to him.

“What are you…?” He squacked as she latched on to his forearm.

“We need to jump, I’ll balance you!” She shouted. “To the window, come on!”

He gave her a curt nod and together they jumped, each slipping on the sill; but she managed to pull back under they were crashing through the glass and landing hard on the floor.

She felt a sharp pain and something heavy land on top of her, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading and commenting. It's motivating to know others are enjoying it!


	7. Chapter 7

“Melinda?  Come on, I need you to wake up.”  Phil’s voice was strained and she tried to pull away, only to be stopped by a slice of pain in her arm when she moved.

“Come on. I see you.  Finish waking up for me, please.” He _kept_ talking. “Melinda…come on….Agent May…SHIELD Agent Melinda May…Strategic Homeland Inter…”

“Will you just _shut up_?!” She growled, cracking her eyes open.

Concern was replaced with relief and Phil beamed at her, “Sure.  You stay awake and I’ll stop talking.”

Melinda ordered her eyes to look around, they were in a hotel room not too different than their own with the exception of the shattered window and smoke that hung in the air.  Phil’s hair was up on end, he had several new scratches on his face and his shirt was missing a sleeve.

“We need to move. I’m going to help you up, okay?” He was staring at her in a way she didn’t understand.  She didn’t need help standing up.  She hadn’t needed help standing up since she was a child.

“Melinda?” He repeated, “Are you with me?”

She blinked.  Okay, maybe something was wrong.  She looked to her arm where the pain had come from; blood seeped from a large gash bound by a strip of tied fabric.  Looking down she frowned.  Her dress was stained red around her abdomen and Phil’s hand and some more fabric were pressed tightly to her side. She couldn’t feel any of it despite the fact his knuckles were white with the pressure.

“I think I’m in shock.” She announced, looking back to Phil. 

He smiled, “I think you are too. But we can deal with that later.  The building is still on fire.  We need to leave and maybe find a medical kit.”

She nodded, leaning against him and letting him guide her to a standing position.

“You okay?”  He asked before taking a step forward, keeping her tucked tight to his side.

She shook her head, “I told you, I’m in shock.”

“Right.  Yes, you did.” He agreed evenly, pushing open the door and leading her across the hall. 

The fire alarm was blaring in the hallway and they encountered no one as they descended into the atrium and out the back door. 

“There. The helicopter.” Phil gestured, across the property to the helo they had come to the island on. “It must have first aid.”

Melinda nodded, the numbness wearing off with every step.  Her side throbbed and she swallowed a groan.

“That was really dumb of you, Melinda.” Phil lectured as he half dragged her to the helo. “You should have just jumped for the window without me, or at least let me try and catch myself.”

“Doing. My. Job.” She grunted.

If anything, his hold on her tightened, “The mission was complete as soon as I contacted Fury.  There was no need for you to risk your life like that.  You’re barely conscious.”

“You’re right, my bad. Let’s do it over again.” She bit out, not feeling the energy to argue with him.

He snorted but didn’t say anything else as they reached the helipad.  He helped her to sit against the helicopter skids before picking the lock on the door and disappearing inside.

A moment later he reappeared with a red cross box, “I think I can hotwire this bird.  Any chance you know how to fly a helicopter?”

She grimaced, advanced flight school was an elective at the academy she had skipped in favor of getting into the field early.  “Not yet.  Was planning on taking classes eventually.”

“Well, it looks like you’re about to have some forced downtime.” Phil offered as he pulled aside the fabric from her wound, “Might be a good opportunity to take up flying.”

She didn’t comment, distracted by the needle in his hand, “What are you planning on doing with _that?_ ”

“Easy.” He soothed, “You need stitches to stop the bleeding.  I promise it will be fast.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” She glared at him.

A wince was all she got in return, “How honest do you want me to be?”

“ _Very._ ” She ground out.

Phil sat back on his heel and sighed, “You want honest?  I don’t know how much blood you’ve already lost and I don’t know how long we have until a real doctor is going to be available for you. You were unconscious for a full five minutes and I still haven’t been able to get it to start clotting.”  His blue eyes had turned gray in intensity as he stared at her, “Have I given stitches before? No. But I’ve hemmed more pairs of pants then I care to count so I’m thinking giving it a try is preferable to sitting here and watching my partner bleed out.”

“Great, now I’m a pair of pants.” She sighed.

He huffed, “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.” He waited for her to meet his eyes, “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you.”  She nodded, surprising herself with how much she meant it.

“Good.” He breathed out and then breathed again, steadying his hand and glancing to her eyes before pushing aside the fabric and beginning his work.

The needle stung and she focused on her breathing to keep herself from crying out or writhing away from Phil’s hands.  For his part, he was true to his word, he found a steady rhythm and it wasn’t long until he put the needle and thread down, pressing a salve and gauze over the wound.

“It should hold for a while.” He winced, “I mean, I hope.  I don’t really know. First time and all.”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m sure it’s fine.”  She sighed, “Thank you.”

“Yeah well, one time deal.” He smirked, “Don’t expect me to stitch you up every time you nearly get killed trying to save me from myself.”

She snorted, “Likewise.”

He wiped his hands on the fabric that had been pressed to her side and she made the connection her foggy shock brain had been unable to do, “Phil, is that your sleeve?”

He looked to the bloody lump of linen and shrugged, “Had to improvise; didn’t have a tie.”

She knew he meant it in jest, and maybe it was the blood lost and pain, but she couldn’t help but think back to the care and appreciation he had for the SHIELD provided garments, “You wanted to try and keep that shirt.”

“Still can.” He smirked, “Just take off the other sleeve.  What do you think?  Can I rock the sleeveless collared shirt look?”

The ridiculousness of the question made her smile and she reached for his arm. “Yesterday’s suit is still in the room; did the fire make it there? Maybe you can go get it…”

“Melinda…” He leaned closer, a hand on her cheek, “Stop it with the clothes.  It’s just a suit. I didn’t even pay for it.  Relax.”

She nodded, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand.  There was a callous on his trigger finger and the heel of his palm from the hours he spent at the firing range.  Unbidden her mind drifted to the night before and the sensation of those rough patches on her bared skin.

Opening her eyes he was still there, close, staring at her, his own blood caked in his eyebrow.  

When she leaned forward he didn’t move. 

The kiss was soft and languid; a sharp contrast from the previous evening.  A silent declaration of concern and assurance.

As soon as it started, it was over, Phil pulling away, his eyes dropping down, “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have…”

Melinda stopped him by raising a hand to his chest, “It’s okay, Phil.  It was just a kiss.” She smiled, “You know, I’d be lying if I said last night didn’t leave me thinking.”

His neck flushed and he huffed, “Ahem, yeah, well…yeah…”

She turned her hand, cupping his cheek, “You’re right, now isn’t the time, but maybe when we get back we can play around…”

He was still under her palm but his eyes moved rapidly, taking in her face.

Eventually, his hand moved, covering hers and slowly removing it from his cheek but not letting it go as he lowered it between them. 

His ever present smile was sad, “You’re in shock.”

“I am.” She agreed, “But it’s lifting and I know what I’m saying.” She stroked his hand with her thumb, “Fury is only worried about feelings; he doesn't care if two agents mess around. I trust you. I think we could have fun.” 

His eyes were focused on the joined hands. He squeezed them, releasing a sigh, “You know that sounds _really_ appealing…” He looked up, meeting her eyes,” But I wouldn’t be able to just have fun; It wouldn’t just be playing for me. I can’t…separate sex like that.”

She wanted to roll her eyes.  She wanted to tell him sex was just sex, what was wrong with two adults who trusted one another having a little fun?  It was a healthy way to release endorphins and feel alive. It had been too long since she had a friend with benefits and she could _really_ do with a reliable source of uncomplicated release.

But another part of her reminded her that this was why she liked working with Phil; he respected her and was honest.  He didn’t play games like so many others in the agency.  And while she found his position to be more than a little naïve and simplistic, and she knew an effective spy would need to learn to disconnect emotions from sex, she didn’t want to be the one to take that from him.

She squeezed his hand before dropping it, “Is it because you think I’m going to scar and be ugly thanks to your shoddy stitch work?” She smiled, teasing.

“Oh yeah." He returned the smile, though his eyes remained solemn. "Hideous.  Grotesque, even.” He brushed a lock of her hair away from her face, “Easily the most ugly woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the ladies you stitch up in the middle of an extract gone to hell.” She murmured.  It was getting harder to keep her eyes open.

“Hey.” He tapped her cheek, “Don’t you doze off on me.”

She frowned, forcing herself to focus. “Should we be moving?”

Phil looked over his shoulder to the smoldering building, “Honestly? I don’t know.” He sat back, digging into his pocket and pulling out the pager, “Nothing on this.  And without express direction I’m thinking we should limit how much we move you.”

“What even happened?” Melinda murmured, eyes following the smoke as it wafted into the sky, “What was that explosion?”

“Me.”

It took her a moment to register the identity of the new voice but Phil’s head swiveled, gun at the ready.

“You going to shoot me, Rookie?” Fury approached from the other side of the helo, eyes sweeping over them, “Can she walk?”

“ _She_ can speak for herself…” Melinda ground out, struggling to push herself forward.

Phil tucked the gun in his waistband and offered a shoulder under her arm, his attention on their boss, “Not without help.”

The senior agent nodded, brandishing his own gun, “Okay. Stick close. The bus is this way.”

She didn’t have it in her to resist Phil as he stood, taking most of her weight and pulling her along.

“C’mon Melinda, just a little longer.  Almost there.”

She focused on his voice, letting everything else fade into the background and breathing through the pain.  It was almost over.

“Phil…” She spoke into his shoulder.

“Yeah?” She felt his chin against the top of her head.

“I really hate under cover…”


	8. Epilogue

Melinda didn’t remember actually boarding the plane but she slowly became aware that she was lying in one of the bunks.  She was still in her dress, dried blood caked into the embroidery.  An iv of something fed into the back of her hand and the wound on her arm had a proper bandage on it.

She could feel the vibration of the plane; they were in the air and raised voices were mid-conversation outside her door.

“I thought it was a _tracker_!” 

That was Phil.  His voice was aggrieved yet restrained.

“It was.” Came Fury’s calm return, “But it was _also_ a bomb.  Just in case of this specific situation.”

“But I didn’t even debrief!” Phil grappled, “How could you decide to blow someone up without knowing the details?!”

There was the shuffling of fabric and click of plastic, “I got this nifty little message on this here pager. Says ‘HOSTILE’…what else did I need to know?”

There was an extended pause and she could picture Phil gaping at Fury’s understated reasoning. 

“How about that they were just kids?  I don’t think Quyen was even my age. And they were victims of circumstance; they grew up in hell with just one another and these powers as their only saving grace; they did with them what they knew.”

“And that amounts to what?” Fury pressed, “Whose lives did you expect me to risk on the off chance we might get these guys to change their act?  How much time should I have wasted?  What would you have me say to the families who lost loved ones because of the weapons Quyen sold?” 

There were footsteps and when Fury spoke again his voice was low, “We may have lost Garrett because someone hesitated on the trigger.  I _wasn’t_ going to let that happen again.  You said hostile, that’s all I needed to know.”

Phil’s voice was equally low with an extra tinge of dejection, “I didn’t want to _kill_ them.”

“You’re going to have to get over that bleeding heart or find yourself a desk." Fury’s tone was softer than his words. "The field is no place to be gun shy; we play with live ammo around here.” 

Phil's exhale was audible, “I’m not gun shy.  I _want_ to be in the field.” He paused, “But Melinda almost died because you blew up the building before we were clear.”

“ _Agent May_ got injured, doing her job.” Fury’s voice returned to normal volume, “There’s a tracker in your pager, I knew you were nowhere near the explosion.”

“But it was still a risk.  An unnecessary one.” Phil pushed back, “She was impaled on a shard of glass because she was trying to save _my_ ass.”

“And _that_ was her job.” Fury repeated, “She saved your ass and then you saved hers.  Ain’t partnership grand?”

Phil snorted.

“Hey.” Fury demanded Phil’s attention, “You assured me there were no hanky panky feelings between you two when you accepted this mission.”

“Just because we aren’t sleeping together doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned.” Phil was beginning to sound petulant. “Or are you about to tell me that’s part of being an agent too; not bothering to care when you’re covered in a fellow agent’s blood?”

“You can care.” Fury assured, “But you gotta get over it; wasting time and energy on what’s already happened just invites a whole bunch of trouble.”

“What about trying to make sure it never happens again?” Phil volleyed.

There  was long silence and Melinda stretched to try and see through the crack in the door. Fury’s back was the only thing visible. 

When he spoke again his voice was quiet and even, “We can’t tell the impact our actions are going to have on the future.  I can’t tell you if May is going to get hurt or even killed on her next mission or if she’ll retire as the director 50 years from now."  He paused, "Same goes for you, by the way.  As your S.O. I can give you all the tools I think you need but there's no telling if it will be enough on any given mission." His shoulders rose in a shrug, "Best we can do is prepare for whatever hand that could be dealt.”

He sighed, “I’ve told you before that a man can do anything once he realizes he’s part of something greater; I’ve never told you that it’s easy.  Every agent has a moment when they have to decide if all this is what they really want.  If you’ve had enough of this life, if you want a guarantee to never have to stitch up a friend again; I’ll respect that.  When we land stateside you can walk off this plane and go find a 3 bedroom colonial in the suburbs.  Get yourself a wife, 2.5 kids, a dog and spend your days shuffling from some job in the city to PTA meetings.  That choice is yours to make... But that’s not what I see inside you, Coulson.”

He stepped out of Melinda’s view, voice cavalier once again, “But maybe I’m wrong.  Anything’s possible.”

She watched through the crack in the door as Phil stood still for a long moment after Fury left.  She could only see a sliver of his profile; his shoulders stooped and head hung.  When he moved toward her bunk she relaxed into the pillow and closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

The door slid fully open, then closed.  For what felt like a long time, nothing happened.  Melinda was on the verge of saying something when the foot of the bed dipped.

She blinked her eyes open, silently taking in the scene in front of her; Phil was at the far edge of the bed, his face in his hands as his fingers rubbed at his eyes.  He wore the same dirty khakis but had changed into a clean SHIELD t-shirt. There was a bandage on his forearm, a piece of gauze taped behind his ear and she could see a butterfly strip over a wound on his cheek, another on his forehead.

“You okay?”

He dropped his hands, staring at her, “You’re awake.”

“I am.” She confirmed, shifting up in the bed. “Should _you_ be?”

The corners of his lips faltered as he tried to smile at her, “I’m fine.” He stood up, leaning against the wall, fiddling with the hem of his pockets, “You will be too.  Landry had a chance to look you over when we go on board; not sure if you remember that.”

She shook her head.

Phil nodded, “The iv is just antibiotics to make sure you don’t get an infection but the good news is that he didn’t need to redo my stitches and you didn’t lose as much blood as I feared. He figures you were so woozy because you also have a concussion.”

She reached for the back of her head, feeling a large tender spot under her hair, “Concussion. Great.  We match.”  She tried smiling but Phil was looking at his shoes.

“You probably got it from me falling on you when we crashed through the window.” He winced, “Sorry about that.”

“You’re sorry?” She repeated, “I wasn’t aware you were intentionally trying to give me a concussion.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

She made a face but didn’t say anything else, refusing to fuel whatever guilt complex he was working through.

After a moment, he looked at her, “You should know I already told Fury I’m putting in to exchange some of my firearms time for more physical training.”

She raised her eyebrows, not entirely following his point.

“I already met all my quals on pistols anyway and there’s no reason why I shouldn’t have been able to make that jump without you to steady me.” He shrugged, “It’s clear I need to reevaluate how I use my training time.”

Melinda sighed, “Phil, the reason why you couldn’t make that jump is because you’re not a specialist.” She grimaced, “SHIELD spent good time and money putting me through the academy to learn skills like that.  I didn’t learn how to coax the life story out of a gun runner but I know how to jump from a collapsing ladder.”

He looked to the side, avoiding her eyes, “Well, still.  I thought you should know.  I understand if you don’t want to work with me again, but I’m going to get better.  You won’t need to put yourself in harms way for basic stuff like that.”

“I’m not going to tell you to _not_ do more physical training.” Melinda shrugged, “But don’t think you need to do it for any reason other than you want to.  No one expects you to be a specialist.”

“I’m not trying to be.” He stepped closer, “But I should be able to take care of myself.”

“Well, I guess that’s not a _terrible_ goal.” She shifted back into the pillows, with a sassy smirk, “Not all specialists are as good as I am.” 

“You’ll get no argument from me.” Phil muttered, playing with his fingers and shifting his weight before he spoke again, “And look…about that other thing…we… _talked_ about…at the helipad…”

“Phil. Stop.” She held up a hand and drilled him with as hard a look as she could muster, “It will only be weird if one of us makes it weird.  Are you about to make it weird?”

He swallowed, staring at her with a blank face. 

After a long beat, he inhaled through his nose, allowing his shoulders to relax and his grin to return, “No. No weirdness from me."

Melinda snorted and for a moment the bunk was quiet again. 

Phil shuffled his feet, looking to her with a smile, “Well, I guess I should let you get some rest.” He pointed to a duffel at the side of the bed, “We brought your clothes up earlier if you wanted to change.”

“Thanks.” She made half a move to sit up, until the buzzing in her head demanded she slow down.  She ignored it, sitting up fully and swinging her legs off the small mattress. “It will be good to get out of these damn clothes. I kind of hate Heidi.”

“She wasn’t too bad.” Phil smirked, “I mean, we kind of had fun, right?”

She paused, staring at him, “Phil, we could only relax our covers in the safety of the bathroom, still got found out, had to go on the run from psycho arms dealers and jump off a burning building.” He head tilted, “What part of that screams ‘fun’ to you?”

His brow furrowed and his adams apple bobbed, “That…part…?”

She looked to the ceiling and released a long breath, “There’s something seriously wrong with you, you do know that, don’t you?”

When she looked back to him his grin bordered on impish, “Maybe; but you like me anyway.”

She made a face, nonplussed, “ _Barely_.”

His grin widened, then faltered, falling to something more restrained. “Well.  Glad you’re alright.” He backed to the door, “We still have something like 8 hours in the air so get some rest, Agent May.”

Her eyes shot to his at the sound of the formal address.  It sounded odd coming from him, said with almost practiced deliberateness. 

His face gave nothing away.  Studiously and completely blank. 

Her gut pushed at her to call him on it, to tease him for suddenly being so proper.  

But she didn’t. 

Maybe some propriety was a good thing to reestablish the boundaries which had been weakened over the last 48 hours.

She swallowed and nodded, “You too, Coulson.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the Thailand mission. 
> 
> The next mission is Sicily with a recently returned Garrett (who has a secret) from Coulson's PoV. After that we'll get May's PoV for the Madrid mission.
> 
> June and July are my insanely busy months for work and while all my upcoming stories have outlines, they are not written yet so it maybe slower than I was able to get these last couple up and I have a couple of unrelated one shots I may post before I actually get to continuing the series. But it is coming!


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